Forgotten beneath a pile of clothes,
with the intricate weaves desiring escapism,
I miss the spinner of these threaded relics,
and adore the art of binding them together.

Cobwebs perceive me as their abode,
and dust rocks in my cradle,
as I whisper the tales of kindred dwellers
haunted by my covert scrutiny for years.

I'm a stranger to the delicacy
of the fingers I sheltered,
yet familiar to the cacophony
of secrets they cherished.

When the glistening stars ascend,
I stretch beneath their gentle grasp,
and as the dawn breathes through the panes,
I unravel into forgotten threads.

— m ☆

Begging to graze the weeping clouds,
the ocean is leashed to the facade of horizon.
Clad in blood at twilight, precursing moonlight,
the sky garbs the ocean in its hues.
Yet, the mutual admiration is baneful,
since the osculation is destined to be an illusion.
But beneath the galaxy, when somnolence seals the world,
the ocean desires escapism and reaches for its beloved,
however, betrayed by victory, it devours the mortals,
Pondering if it is demanded by requited yet unattainable love.

— m ☆